


Footrace

by wickedrum



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Sickfic, eventual Thrandiel, starts out Kili/Tauriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-02-01 20:53:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12712761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: Thranduil mounts Ravenhill alone, set to protect his son, regardless of Legolas' preceding insolence and ends up saving Kili for Tauriel's sake. Just an excuse for romance and to whump said melancholiac king.





	1. Mist

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Kili/Tauriel, eventual Thranduil/Tauriel.  
> Disclaimers: I don't own anything, barely my knickers.

Chapter 1: Mist

 

It was not hard to spot Legolas standing atop a rickety tower, shooting arrows. While he was up there, he was relatively safe, bar for the random Gundabad bat or a shot aimed at him. However, despite the dwarves' efforts, orc numbers were still high and Thranduil was not willing to play games with the life of his heir, his only son, the most precious thing his wife had left behind. Having given the order to retreat and stalked off from his Guard as if in a huff, he mounted the steps up the side of Ravenhill, leading to the military post above. His assent was relatively effortless. Following Tauriel's footsteps most assailants on the way he has found already slain. He could hear her, just above, a few ridges ahead, calling out for her dwarf and allowed himself an internal eyeroll while hacking at orcs popping up along the staircase. If not for that young dwarf, none of them would be there, neither his son or his best guard in peril, against way too many enemies even for their skill. Yes, those senseless two could end up needing him soon, there was no doubt about that. Those insolent types stood up against his direct orders in the middle of the battle, so there was no way he could justify putting any more of his soldiers in harm's way to aid them, not to mention that would have went against his previous order. It had to be him, or no one.

Thranduil grunted in annoyance. It wasn't that his current three attackers were too much for him, but they've slowed him down considerably. In the chaos of the battle, anything could happen and in the blink of an eye too. His attention however, had to be with the footsoldiers of the evil overlords as his distraction had already cost him one sword and a rather hard landing that knocked the breath out of him for a moment. Coughing, he rolled over and from below, bathed his remaining sword in the abdomen of the goblin towering over him, then rolled further before he would be covered in its blood. Punches weren't his thing, nor one of his strengths in particular, but he had no other option than to utilise a fist on one of the orcs, and his sword on another. 

Oddly, it was his punch that worked better and unbalanced his attacker enough to fall over the edge while he was hooked in battle with the other one. Its strikes were strong and it got one blow in to his armoured chest before Thranduil got the better of him. While the orcs were bullocky and hulking, they lacked grace and could be outsmarted and the king got it in the neck with his next turn. Somewhat dizzy, he steadied himself by the wall, then jumped to action again, having no idea where he could find Legolas now to aid him as the tower the younger elf had been standing on was not in place anymore. However, he could not ignore what was happening on the next level of the edifice, Tauriel without a weapon, seemingly immobilised for the moment and barely hanging onto the edge of the cliff. Thranduil could not quite jump up in time to stop the beast dipping his weapon into the dwarves' upper body, but he was in time kicking it away to stop it from being plunged into the heart till Tauriel could launch herself onto the ledge and back into the fight. Three on one, it only took them a few swings to get rid of the pesky orc and then Thranduil pushed forward and up, intent on reaching his son, not paying attention to Kili falling to his knees and Tauriel rushing up to catch him, immediately assessing his injuries and covering the wound to stop it from bleeding. 

Thranduil climbed higher for a better view and at a ledge close to the top by the River Running frozen completely into ice spikes, he took a moment to take stock of the surroundings. Lower, he could see that Tauriel was back in the battle, her back to the dwarf she was protecting, with the short one clearly not capable to engage in a proper fight on his own. Thorin was a bit higher, locked in battle with Bolg and Azog. And finally, Legolas, at the edge of the frozen surface, orc bodies littering the ground around him, Radagast arriving with numerous eagles. It looked like the Battle of the Five Armies was nearly over, but till then, he would still climb up, make it to his son for any eventuality. 

Tauriel also hammered on, angry and frustrated, throwing the occasional cautious and weary looks behind at her love who could now barely lift a sword, but still stood his ground as he was, propped against the wall. It was a real relief when some eagles knocked her last few opponents down and she could properly concentrate on tending to Kili. Not liking the large blood stain on his chest, she covered it with her palms again, but the dwarf was more interested in pulling her close, hand tangled in her hair and drawing her in for a kiss, warm, desperate, comforting, gratifying, with the reward being itself. “You returned to me,” he whispered against her lips, keeping her close. And at that moment, nothing else mattered.

“Kili, we need to tend to your wounds,” she insisted.

“I will be fine. You brought me back from further than this,” his trusting eyes twinkled at her lovingly. 

“I don't want to lose you now that I've found you!” Tauriel argued. She allowed one more, gentle kiss, then pulled back and undid one of her leather belts to fashion a compress and squeeze a bit of cloth she ripped off from his shirt onto and around his chest. 

“Easy with the goods,” Kili shivered at being manhandled, “and I don't want to be carried down the mountain in your arms,” he imagined in full awareness that Tauriel could indeed perform such a deed. 

“You don't have to,” Ori appeared at their side and came to kneel by his side, “you know you art the King Under the Mountain, don't you,” he said very seriously. 

“What?” Kili's features became somewhat panicky. He had known of course that his brother was no more, but “Thorin..?”

Balin shook his head sadly from behind Ori, whereas Bilbo muttered monotonously, “long live the King..”

“We have all trust in you,” Bofur advanced, holding his axe against his pwn chest in a self-consolatory manner, “we know you will do right by the House of Durin.”

“Will Kili really be alright, lass?” Balin stepped beside the elf to inquire confidentially.

Tauriel swallowed down her own worries, making an effort to disregard the foolish dread in her chest that could not stand the sheer notion of a loved one being harmed and offered a more realistic scenario instead, for everyone's sakes, “with the proper care, sure. Just help me get him off this cliff. I know someone we could ask for some athelas, but until then, I would like your support convincing your new king not to exert himself. Stubbornness must be an essential royal trait.”

Kili looked from one to another, overtaken by astonishment and confusion, “I can't be king, it's not right,” he shook his head, “Thorin has been striving for this position back in Erebor ever since I've known him, and he'd trained Fili to replace him, shall the moment come..”

“Cousin, it is not your brother who is the survivor, you are,” Dwalin encouraged, “young or not, it seems this is your destiny.”

The youngest of Thorin's company searched for Tauriel's eyes, as well as her hand for support. “My uncle... I want to see him.”

“Alright,” the elf gave in to the under circumstances very reasonable request. Kili would have to see what happened with his own eyes to believe it, as well as honour Thorin Oakenshield, King of Durin's Folk at the same time, “but you shall be carried,” she looked at the other dwarves for confirmation they would follow her lead in the matter.

Tbc


	2. Humidity

Chapter 2: Humidity

The number of attendees at the Elvenking's Council varied from time to time, from a couple of Elders who felt as their obligation to stand offering any possible support the king might need at some point despite his obvious predilection to feel comfortable deciding everything on his own, to their full official number of one and a half dozen that were currently present in the Conference Chamber, having all deemed it befitting to pay their respects through the gathering to those fallen during the Battle of the Five Armies, as well as offer their services in this particular time of need that has befallen their relatively small nation. The session seemed endless, with varied matters arising pertaining issues from defining or redefining the exact nature of their alliance with every race and subspecies that stood with them against the forces of Sauron to the more secondary matters of nominations for replacements in positions of those who had been slain in the battle, frequently interrupted by Thranduil so that he could take the arriving family members of the fallen into adjacent chambers for a private paying of respects of his own and a thanking for their service. These were painful and weighty times to suffer for everyone involved and the councillors waited patiently each time for the king's return, no matter how long it took. 

He was distracted even when present, that was clear and nobody would fault him for that, yet he wanted to settle everything possible, appease what was imaginable to be. “Just because Sauron's power has taken a dip for the moment, it doesn't mean that our boundary line and patrol forces should be reduced,” he discarded the suggestion, coming closer to the large and long table some of the councillors sat by, while others stood spread out in the room. While he did not care about territories already lost, he did not want to compromise the safety of those within the boundaries of the Kingdom.

“Calling them in would only be temporary, till the wounded can resume work,” the swordmaster instructor Amros suggested.

“We aren't planning another war, are we. We can wait,” Thranduil cast his eyes at the chair at the head of the table. He had been too unsettled to sit on it, but now it seemed like he was giving it consideration. 

“Our army can still be made operational at a moment's notice,” his first lieutenant Feren confirmed, “but your Royal Guard is missing no less than twenty-two individuals...”

“No!” The King rounded on him, considering his rule as law and settled, but he did have to acknowledge that the Fortress of Caves known as the Elvenking's Hall and their inhabitants were left fairly vulnerable and that would not do. “Amros. How many young elves in training?”

“Just under three dozen, My Lord.”

“How many fully adult, over a hundred years of age.” Thranduil raised a hand to place his hand over the top of his chair, slightly parting from his signature, stiff and superior stance that aired his unyielding, potent presence.

“All but two, I believe, My Liege.”

“In that case,” the king more leaned against the chair than held himself, fingers tightening on the wood, “we have our numbers. I am certain I can trust your training and that the trainees are ready.” 

“Should I officially reduce the required age of those serving in the military to a hundred in formal documents as well?” The red haired Caranthir offered.

Thranduil sighed, “may as well...”

“Are you alright, My Lord,” Brimdor, the oldest of all stepped closer, Thranduil's unusual stance not being lost on him. He was one of those Councillors who had volunteered their presence more often for meetings, older cousin of the once Queen who came to Court with her and had stayed since with the only family he had left, if distant. 

“With that settled,” Thranduil intended to ignore the concern, “I need one of you to go round the families of the fallen, find out how many would like burials by the Clearing of the Moon and how many by Fading to dust.”

Two of the elves stepped forward, but the scrawnier one beat the other one to speech, “I have already started making a list, Your Majesty,” he offered.

“My Lord?” Brimdor repeated uncertainly when standing close by he heard a faint moan coming from Thranduil as the royal closed his eyes, but not even the Elder was prepared for what happened next when the all strength seemed to have went out of the king's body and he crumbled to the floor in a heap, only his circlet preventing his head from making a more horrific sound when crushing against the stone. There were a series of gasps from all present, with some pushing forward to see what had transpired. 

Snapping out from his astonishment, Brimdor jumped to kneel by the younger elf and Galion pushed forward from the shadows from where he had been monitoring the situation. His presence was somewhat of a surprise for everyone as the butler was not usually required to be present at these meetings, but he had his suspicions that he would be needed. “Has the King been injured in the battle?” Councillor Maglor demanded of Feren.

“Not to my knowledge,” the Lieutenant felt deficient in regards to his job to keep his master safe. 

“Not severely, but he had broken ribs and bruises all over,” Galion provided, kneeling down next to his King as well. 

“Fetch a healer at once!” Feren barked at his soldiers by the door. 

“Hir vuin?” Brimdor questioned the elf lying on the ground, seemingly trying to bring himself to consciousness by moving his head side to side and groaning breathlessly. The Elder thought to help him by holding a hand against his King's cheek, seeking his attention. “Hey. Thranduil,” he reached into a distant past calling the other by name, reminiscent of times before his cousin married the blond and of merry occasions incognito in taverns Middle-Earth wide together. “Mellon, ion-nin,” he tried everything he felt appropriate while Galion was busy loosening his master's clothing, undoing his belts, fastens and buttons.

“Give the King privacy, everyone please wait outside,” Feren ushered the rest, some of whom have already come to the consideration themselves and put up no resistance doing just that.

“Is there no healer close by?” Brimdor grumbled.

“It will probably be awhile,” Feren excused circumstances, “they'll be all busy with the injured, not to mention that we have happened to set up the triage tents under the bridge for the access to water.”

“It isn't the injuries I'm worried about,” the butler gave his insight, “it is that His Majesty did not rest since before the battle, nor did he ingest anything bar for sipping from the couple of goblets of wine I've managed to thrust into his hands.”

“Nothing for five days?” Brimdor wanted to confirm. Certainly an elf could survive on pure air for a lot longer, but Thranduil's refusal to take care of himself was speaking volumes of his state of mind. 

“More like six, counting from before the day of the battle,” the butler specified. 

“I'm fine,” Thranduil seemed to have surfaced enough to groggily try to raise his head without actually opening his eyes and frustratedly pull the lapel of his tunic away from his manservant, his breathing erratic.

“Stay down for a bit, you are exhausted,” Brimdor placed a hand on the blond's chest and pushed him back without any trouble at all, “the healer's on the way.”

“I shall not wait for him in this state,” the King blinked his eyes narrowly open, with barely a twinkle of life in them. It was only for appearances' sakes that he objected.

“We've sent everyone away, you can rest,” the Elder argued.

“Help me up,” Thranduil searched to find his authoritative voice, not listening to reason.

“Alright,” his relation gave in, knowing he had no other choice, but he turned to the butler before offering his hand to the king and putting his other arm behind Thranduil to support him. “Fetch some water.”

Galion didn't need to be told twice, nor to hurry, though the pitcher wasn't far away and he got back with a cupful just in time for Brimdor to settle the king against him as he was sitting up on the floor. Both helpers held the cup from either side, saving Thranduil the bother and he drank a few mouthfuls obediently enough before grunting and pulling away, his last swallow seeming tedious. “I shall recover in my quarters,” he asserted, desperate to be left alone to get on with it. 

Brimdor saw through the plans however and made sure to prevent further negligence of the king's health. “Feren, make sure the healer is redirected to His Majesty's quarters,” he ordered, with Thranduil too feeble to contend it at this point. Then the rare bearded elf refocused his attention to his kin, “are you sure you're well enough to stand.”

Thranduil grunted his annoyance and made a point to lean on Galion more as he gathered himself off the ground and fortified himself for what could prove to be an arduous trek further inwards into the caverns, dizzy and nauseous as he felt. He straightened himself more and more however with every step, forcing himself to utilise his own steam as he stepped through the door, awaiting the scrutinising gathering of many pairs of eyes, all anxious to see what had happened to their king. Thranduil didn't grace them with a proper look himself, only held up a restrictive hand before anyone could ask anything of his well-being, his singular goal being making it to his rooms without further embarrassment. While his iron will would not fail, he had no idea how pale and drawn he looked, making the onlookers draw their own conclusions. 

Tbc


	3. Indoor Plumbing

Chapter 3: Indoor Plumbing 

Thranduil was vaguely aware that his two followers were still with him and that occasionally, one of them would say something that he was either expected to react to or not, but his attention was too taken up with holding himself upright to take further note. Once behind closed doors, they more or less herded him towards his bed that he lowered himself onto without any objections. Galion taking to remove his cape and his boots received no objection either, Thranduil merely sank into his pillows, as if swallowed by a different world that was to provide concealment behind a veil. Retreating into himself with a frown on his forehead that told the other two that everything was far from well, he seemed to have submerged into a semi-conscious, depleted and apathetic state where he let himself be further manhandled as if a puppet, his forehead checked for a temperature by the Elder, his covers arranged by his butler, being raised up gently, but forced to drink some water. It would almost like naturally follow that the healer would arrive at this time and some part of his mind did fleetingly register that they've managed to get hold of Saeros, the same venerable elf who had always tended to his injuries ever since he was an elfling half the size. 

“What is going on?” The healer entered, routinely sizing up the situation as much as possible before anyone even answered. 

“I am not sure,” Brimdor shook his head helplessly, “but I would guess it has something to do with the burdens of recent events.”

Saeros sat his bag at the foot of the bed, “let's start with any physical afflictions that might be influencers. Does it hurt anywhere, My Lord?”

Thranduil gave a sigh and turned his gaze lazily to his physician, spiritless and not giving any indication he would grace the question with an answer any time soon. “His stomach hurts,” Galion provided instead. 

Brimdor raised a surprised eyebrow at the servant's observation skills, while Saeros still tried to nudge the King for a reaction, leaning close, “may I look at your stomach?”

It probably stunned everyone in the room when Thranduil actually nodded, a fleeting ghost of a wince crossing his features when he pulled his hand out the way. Saeros peeled the already loose garments aside, revealing some of the numerous bruises the butler had mentioned. The healer nodded to himself and gently probed the sites, “there were injuries to the ribs, but those are mostly mended as they should be by now. I do not like this dark line across the abdomen, it should have healed better on its own, but I believe I can make a brew for a compress to be saturated with that will take care of it. I shall get to it as soon as we finish with the examination,” he scrutinised his patient attentively, with a pat down here and there and a hand over the heart he kept in place for a few moments. “I want you to rest, My Lord. For now, I'll give you a strengthening tonic that should bring you some relief from the general feel of malaise and lightheadedness and we will reassess your condition after the compress had its effect,” he reached into his bag to pull out a vial he assuredly held out for the King.

Thranduil frowned at it ill-naturedly, not happy that he was made to raise himself to reach it. Leaning on an elbow, he regarded the object in his hand with considerable animosity, disgust and doubt, but ultimately he had to trust his best healer and therefore at long last he downed the contents, apparently having given into looking ill and discomfited as he leaned back. “I will be back soon,” Saeros promised.

“They will ask you, the people, what's wrong with me,” Thranduil took interest in his reality. “What will you tell them?”

The healer paused contemplatively, “would you like me to tell them something different to their King disregarding his injuries in the interest of his subjects? It might not be the whole story, but it is true.”

Thranduil nodded his appreciation at him, his eyes glazing over with disinterest as soon as Saeros turned his back at him, but Galion remained faithful, “is there anything else we could do for him to make him comfortable while awaiting your return?” He would not let the healer go. 

Saeros waved a dismissive hand, “I could suggest a dozen things he would not comply with. I don't think wine is the best course of action, but I have to acknowledge that alcohol is probably the only workable option under the circumstances given who we're dealing with?” He raised a suggestive eyebrow, “I will not begrudge if you use it as pain relief. Now, the earlier I leave, the earlier I get back, so if you'll excuse me.” 

“Galion, you better bring me a chalice too, I am staying,” Brimdor pulled a footstool close to the bed.

Thranduil blinked at him indecisively, not sure if he should resent the attention or not. He couldn't bring himself to care much either way though, what with having other thoughts on his mind. The king did not care for the wine either, it would not make any difference to the emptiness in his heart, so he made no move to reach for it. “We will prop you up, is that alright?” Galion suggested. 

There was no life in the glance Thranduil gave his servant, but he did object once the other two made a move towards him, “leave me be.”

Brimdor shook his head, “I can't because I've seen you like this before and it almost cost you your life. You need to tell us what is affecting you so bad so we can help. We know it isn't the injury, is it the losses, Legolas' departure? He will come back, if not for anything else but the sense of duty in him. He was raised right and cares about his people. He will be back as soon as they need him, tomorrow if necessary.”

“Drink your wine and not one more word,” Thranduil warned with his version of 'shut up', though sending the friend away he did not feel like. Even if they've not shared a private moment for centuries, Brimdor and himself had a lot of history he felt sentimental about he would never admit to, none the least their connection to his wife Nimrodel. He needed someone like that around, someone who would at least have a chance at coming close to understanding his heartache. 

Tbc


	4. Grey and Overcast

Chapter 4: Grey and Overcast

Thranduil pushed himself higher on his pillows and raised the compress on his belly a little to peer under. The bruises looked a lot better, proving he had been foolish just to ignore them and not request a healer's assistance sooner, he was the king after all and needed to be in his best condition possible at all times. His physical state of well-being however did not seem to match how he felt, which was still overwhelmed with a sense of loss to the extent of extreme nausea and the sense of a world spinning dizzyingly without him participating in it. The way his stomach hurt, weighed down by a barrel load of lead, had nothing to do with injuries. He put the compress back down resignedly and pushed his head back onto the pillows in a defensive apathy that engulfed him. Duties awaited, he knew that and there was nothing he could do about it. “What is it?” He intoned flatly at the elf he had become aware of, who had been standing in the doorway for a while. 

“I am sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you,” Brimdor continued to stay in the shadows.

“Well, you've already disturbed me, so out with it.”

“How are you feeling?” As he neared just one tentative half step forward, the older elf's compassion and sympathy was clear in his voice.

Thranduil felt a surge of despair at the sound of that, a flood of drowning loneliness with an infinitesimally small light of hope up above, lit up by the thought that maybe he wasn't completely alone. It made him answer the question truthfully, or as truthfully as he could bring himself to, “my stomach hurts, Brimdor.”

The Elder frowned, withdrawing into himself for a moment for some deliberation, then decided it wasn't his place to dig deeper, not this time. Perhaps after Thranduil was physically better. “Does the healer know?” The King scoffed in disregard so the older elf changed tack. “Would you like some privacy?”

“Not if there are issues you need my word for,” Thranduil barked ill-naturedly, “are you here as Chair of the Council?”

“My Lord, I am always first and foremost your friend if you ever shall need one, but the members of the Council did have a few matters they wanted your judgement on.”

“Well, out with it so I can go back to a healing rest after.” However doubtful it would help much.

“Lorien wants to modify a trade agreement,” the Elder came forward, knowing well that Thranduil always wanted to know everything that could affect his people.

“Now? Put Maglor on it.”

“To make a decision?” Brimdor could hardly believe his pointy ears.

“Yes.” Thranduil uttered the one word with impatience, “anything else.”

“There's a letter from King Kili of the line of Durin inviting you to his wedding.”

“What!” That sentence did finally attract his attention, making him frown and pull himself up into a sitting position. In his great need and the many complications and implications of the battle that affected the Elves closely, he had forgotten that the young dwarf would be crowned. “Who is he marrying!” 

“Captain Tauriel.” From the tone of his voice, Brimdor shared the disbelief.

“We can count on most of the dwarf population never to let that happen.”

“King Kili explains in his letter that he wants to rush the proceedings for that very reason, while he's still regarded as some kind of a champion of Erebor and wishes the union to be viewed as signifying an alliance between our races, which is why he needs you there.”

“Funny thing, as he isn't exactly marrying out of political reasons,” Thranduil commented sardonically.

“Do you wish a formal reply to be prepared?” Brimdor offered his services once more. 

“When is the wedding ceremony?”

“The First Orgilion of Girithron.”

“Remind me of when exactly that is.” Thranduil proved that he had lost track of the days.

“In three days' time, My Lord.”

Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment as he took a deep breath, then swiftly swung himself round to sit on the side of the bed and place his feet on the carmine rug covering the hard floor of the cave. “Fetch Galion at once, let him know he needs to pack one of my celebratory outfits and a travelling attire.”

“My Lord?” Brimdor was truly bewildered, “you aren't planing on attending, are you?”

Thranduil shook his head, “there's no way this wedding will happen, and if by any chance it does, it will not signify peace between our peoples. I need to attend.”

While Brimdor took the liberty to be more personal with Thranduil sometimes given their history, he knew when there was no point to raising objections, “in that case, My Lord, please let me accompany you on your journey,” he bowed his head.

Tbc

Glossary:

Orgilion ~ Stars-day

Girithron ~ Shuddering (the month of December)


	5. Patches of Sunshine

Chapter 5: Patches of Sunshine

The Elvenking's royal tent hadn't even been fully erected Under the Mountain yet when a small group emerged from the opening to the caves, quickly becoming obvious that it was King Kili, his bride, a number of dwarves who were part of his company passing through Mirkwood and a couple of additional Naugrim none of Thranduil's elves were familiar with. Thranduil rose from the seat that had been erected for his convenience while waiting for the tent and took a couple of genial steps forward, however measured and poised. 

“My Lord Thranduil,” Kili greeted him more jovially than history between their races would have dictated. He marched up close, not bothered by the height difference, though it was apparent that he was getting out of breath with the effort, his grave injury most likely still affecting him. 

“King Kili,” Thranduil acknowledged, his eyes more interested in elleth behind him. Tauriel seemed ill at ease and edgy, not surprising under the circumstances. 

“First of all I wanted to welcome you back to Erebor, and assure you in good faith that if any treasure belonging to Mirkwood will be found at the inventory, they will be returned to their rightful owner immediately.”

“Is that so.” Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “Is that a dwarf way your subjects will agree with.”

“I will not forget that ye have saved my life and neither will they,” Kili ascertained, “I am well aware that without your intervention, I would not be standing here, blessed with good fortune, wealth and love,” he took to squeeze his beloved's hand, “at the beginning of a possible accord between our nations. Hopefully with your blessing.”

“Aren't you starry-eyed. It will be quite the party, I'm sure. Perhaps it is the euphoria of love clouding your judgement, if you've ever had one, that is,” the Elvenking seemed taken aback by the overly forthcoming positivity. 

“There is no reason I can see our races couldn't get along, we have the same overall goals after all.”

While looking sceptical, Thranduil extended a welcoming hand towards his now fully erected tent, “let us discuss, king to king.”

Kili nodded an uncertain assent, and approached the tent somewhat warily. It was when Tauriel and the other dwarves followed that Thranduil put up a hand, “this conversation is private,” he ascertained. 

The King Under the Mountain had no objections, one look at his followers being enough to keep them back. “Would you like a seat, if your injury is bothering you,” Thranduil started once they were alone. “There's a divan,” the elf pointed ahead, towards round a parapet made out of a rug. 

“I'd rather stand.”

“Suit yourself,” Thranduil lowered himself onto his seat that had been brought inside, “there's wine on the table, if you like.”

“I don't think either of us are here for pleasantries, and if you don't mind, I have a wedding to prepare to.”

“Oh, but I do mind! You can't marry Tauriel. For some unfathomable reason she is in love with you, but I forbid you to make such a move without...”

“You have punished Tauriel for helping me, remember? So you have no right to order her what to do or who to marry.”

Thranduil gave a longsuffering sigh and a tired eye roll, “if you'd let me finish? Without the necessary arrangements to keep her safe.”

“Her safety is of paramount importance to me! She is my starlight, I wish I could show you how much. Either way, it is not a matter you should lecture me on given her banishment from your lands.”

“And yet you don't think of her welfare in regards to your ill mannered cousin and all the rest of the elvenblood thirsty Khazad! Do you really think they'll let you away with marrying an elf maiden!”

“There were objections for sure, but those loyal to me will watch out for any trouble. And if push comes to shove, I am not married to the throne, I never even expected to be king. If the price of being with the love of my life is to abdicate in favour of Dain, then that's what needs be.”

“Maybe, there's another option.” There was no way Thranduil preferred Dain Ironfoot on the Erebor throne and he was determined they were going to work this out. “There's only one way that you can keep your throne and Tauriel too. Resolve the matter of succession now before her life or any of her children's lives were in danger.”

“The matter of succession?” Kili didn't think that far ahead, he was simply happy to be alive at this point. 

“Do you think your people will accept a half elf as their king? A half elf who is able to choose a nigh infinite life span shall they prefer it over being mortal? Are you ready for immortal offspring?”

“We haven't really talked about children, but it isn't in my blood to shy away from a fight and protect those who are mine.” 

“Well, don't you think you should talk about it with your betrothed, before the ceremony? If Tauriel is as much in love with you as she appears to be based on her actions, then she will have at least one child with you and what then? How will you protect your family, huh?”

“I'm assuming this thought process is leading us somewhere?”

“To keep your family safe, all you have to do is assure your people that their king's lineage will not be tainted. Rule, by all means, live long King Kili of the House of Durin, but name Dain and/or his descendants as your successor, now. It will save a lot of animosity and danger directed at Tauriel and any children she may have.”

“I...I don't think I can argue with that..” Kili contemplated.

“It's settled then?”

“Not so fast High Cheekbones,” the dwarf thought he should show some pride for his race's sake, not just simply agree to anything Thranduil says, but in essence, it was the best idea he's heard since he'd decided to ask Tauriel's hand in marriage. “I shall take it under advisement,” he put on his best serious face, though it wasn't something he was good at, “I will let you know.”

“And when will that be?”

“Before the wedding, I expect,” Kili kept his cool and his head high, marching out the tent as proudly as his injury let him straighten up. 

Tbc


	6. Showers and Rainbows

Chapter 6: Showers and Rainbows 

“Galion..” It was this whisper that made the servant turn as he gathered some fresh water from the stream behind the Elvenking's royal tent. “Captain?” He squinted in the brightness of the snow, unsure of how to react to the presence of the banished elleth turned creditable with diplomatic immunity.

“Do you think you could ask His Majesty if he would allow me audience?” Tauriel seemed unsure as she advanced.

“King Thranduil is resting,” Galion put forward ambiguously.

“I know it's rather brash of me to ask, but I would need his counsel. I am sure he would be so inclined as it pertains to relations with the dwarves.”

“Is it official business you come to discuss, cloak-and-dagger, loitering in the back?” The butler challenged, mainly only thinking of his king's welfare.

“Not exactly. But I have a lot to thank him for and apologise. Please Galion, could you let him know I'm here? I hold no ill will.”

The dark haired elf huffed and ambled over to the tent ostensibly nillingly-willingly. Tauriel barely had time to get nervous however as he only disappeared for a few moments inside and wore the same disapproving expression when he came back as before. “He will see you.” Clearly, Galion didn't agree with the king's judgement. “You'd better not upset him,” the butler growled lowly into her ears as she slipped past. 

“My King,” Tauriel threw herself to her knees without even daring to look into the Elvenking's eyes. “Please forgive my conduct during the battle. I was majorly out of line.”

“I'm still your King?” Thranduil groaned sardonically.

“You will always be My King, shall you allow it,” Tauriel raised her eyes somewhat to find him in the middle of sitting up from a camp bed and peeling away the robe he was covered with. It was a more vulnerable position than she had expected from him, it was rare she has caught him so unguarded even throughout her duties as his personal guard. It threw her off a bit, wheels of her mind turning to focus on a possible cause on instinct.

“Sorry to have to enlighten you, but I don't think it works that way once you wed the King of Dwarves,” he continued on the same acrid tone. 

“I am a woodelf and I will never deny my heritage, nor the needs of my kind.”

“Like you have done during the battle?” Thranduil raised a pointed eyebrow.

“You know that had nothing to do with affiliation and everything to do with love.”

“You should be aware that as a Queen, you will be expected to consider matters above romance,” he rolled his eyes in disapproval.

“I love Kili, but I don't know whether I should be his queen.”

“You're not asking for my permission, are you. Because it's a little late for that.”

“Tell me what a bad idea it is and I won't marry him. We can be together without that.”

“And pray tell, why would you follow my advice at this time out of all times!”

“I am aware that there is a little more at stake than just my personal happiness.”

“Don't you despise my methods to rule? Disagree with my judgement, follow orders only when there's no other alternative, a back door to tamper with?” He didn't seem as much angry with her as betrayed.

“I may have looked for ways to serve more than one purpose at the same time on occasion, I don't deny that, but I need an outside perspective, an objective one. Am I being too blinded by my love for Kili that I don't see the desolation our union can cause? Who else could tell me better than you, My Lord?”

Thranduil stood to approach, leaning down to take her hands into his, so close and intimate that Tauriel was startled into freezing. “A love shining so bright as yours, cherish it. Never let it falter. Everything else is a secondary concern. I had some concerns for your safety, but whether your dwarf heeds my advice or not, what you have is worth fighting for.”

“You..you agree?” Tauriel was stunned.

“You know how sometimes in battle, a split second feels like a million years, able to encompass the deliberation of entire war strategies? I had one of those moments when I arrived to the ledge you two were on when I contemplated whether it would be better if I let the orc finish off your dwarf.”

“Why didn't you.” The redhead uttered somewhat offended, pulling away.

“I couldn't do that to you.” His voice was low.

Those words left Tauriel momentarily speechless till “I didn't know you cared.” She was bewildered.

“I care for all my subjects, that is the point Tauriel, it has always been the point.” Thranduil hinted. 

“Forgive me, My Lord, and thank you for everything.”

“I wish you good luck, happiness and many years together with your beloved.”

“Are you not coming to the ceremony.”

“Has your betrothed talked to you about my advice.”

“He has found it very useful, yes and I as well.”

“In that case, there's no need for my presence any further, in fact it would be more advantageous if I stayed away, you understand that as well don't you.”

When Tauriel looked up, her eyes somewhat misted over, “there's so much I should be grateful for that came from you, all my adult life, so much I don't understand. But I guess I won't have much chance understanding since this is good bye.”

“It is not unusual for royalty of neighbouring allies to visit each other.”

“My banishment..”

“..pertains to a member of my army not recognising chain of command. The same cannot apply to the Queen of Erebor.” He established on an even, educating voice.

“Queen of...” Tauriel frowned uncomfortably.

“You will do well and fair and be wise, if a little sassy, I know it, I know you like I know myself. You will have to at any case,” Thranduil acted dismissively, “but till later, fair well, my dear.”

Tauriel bowed her head respectfully and slowly turned to go, but then suddenly decided to run back and grabbed his ringed hand to kiss it in her gratitude. It was at this point that she noticed his subtly shaking hand and the unsteady gaze. “Are you alright My Lord?”

“Fine. Just need to rest,” he inclined his head towards the cot indicatively, then raised a hand to place it on her shoulder and squeezed, a good bye more forward than he had had with his son.

Tauriel looked up bewildered, partly for the display of intimacy and partly because he was leaning on her more than even such a gesture would have necessitated. “Are you alright My Lord,” she repeated inanely as he looked like falling apart like never before. 

Thranduil nodded slowly, contemplatively and then narrowing his eyes in displeasure at his own feebleness, turned half way and put a hand round her shoulders, “help me over.”

Panic gripped the elleth in a fashion she did not think possible when it came to the Elvenking. Was it just a side effect of the allegiance she had felt for him her whole life so far, this feeling of dread? Whatever way it was, she had to support him to the camp bed and assist in arranging him comfortably. “How can I help? What's wrong?”

The blond squeezed her hand this time, “promise me one thing. That after your mortal's lifetime, you will come back to Mirkwood to Legolas to help his people. The experience of a Queen could come in handy for him.”

“My Lord?” Tauriel questioned shaken, perplexed by what was going on, “are you not planning on being there?”

“Promise me first, Tauriel.”

“Yes, yes, I will come back,” the redhead swore agitatedly without thinking it through. What she was saying meant that she could not choose to die with her love, but that wasn't an issue close to her stream of consciousness at this point in favour of more current matters, “are you unwell?”

“I have endured the weathering of many eras, it would be alright if it was someone else's turn.”

“No.” Tauriel could not imagine anyone else sitting on that ornate throne, “you're giving up,” she accused.

Thranduil growled in annoyance. He did not like the implications of the assertion, but since part of him was already numb and disinterested in the world around him, it did not bother him as much as it would have just a few weeks ago. “I don't feel well. I would like some privacy.” He closed his eyes in protest.

Tauriel stood up straight, sudden anger and determination replacing the despair in her eyes, “you want me to come back, then you will fight and we will talk about my promise with the occasion of our first official visit to Mirkwood.”

The king's breathing seemed to have evened out, but he lifted half an eyelid to peer at her curiously as if seeing her for the first time, “looking forward to it, My Lady,” he intoned pointedly as if playing a game. With his dismissal patent, there was nothing else to it than leaving him to his thoughts.

Tbc


	7. Thunderstorm

Chapter 7: Thunderstorm

The Royal Guard's weekly routine didn't change as often as it should have. That was the conclusion Tauriel had inadvertently drawn after managing to avoid all checkpoints and scale the mountain to descend to a circular hole in the ground on the other side of the mountain that she knew served as the light illuminating Thranduil's innermost chambers. Thankfully it was unlikely that anyone without the intimate knowledge of a Royal Guard Captain could stumble upon the same location, fit through it and survive the long fall through the shaft. It has once been Tauriel's duty as a personal guard however to regularly inspect and test the reliability of the stone steps edged into the caveside as a possible secret escape route and therefore she could make the journey even in the darkness of the night. 

As opposed to his guards, Thranduil however didn't disappoint at the other end as a sword was raised to her neck the moment she landed, regardless of how improperly he was dressed wearing nothing but a somewhat see through white shirt and tight breeches that did not conceal much either. “What are you doing exactly.” The Elvenking questioned guardedly, face drawn and rather gloomy in the candlelight as he scrutinized the sighting before him. 

“I am sorry My Lord, I didn't mean to put you on guard. I haven't officially left Erebor however so I didn't want to make an appearance in broad daylight.”

“Huh,” Thranduil lowered his sword, “something amiss? Does the dwarven lifestyle not suit you?” There was an amused twinkle in his eyes for a moment, or was it just the lighting?

“I am pretty much permitted to train as I like, eat as I like, honour our customs as I like so I have nothing to complain about. I just wanted to observe the state of your welfare and whether you are honouring our agreement.”

“You break into my chambers to check on my health?” The blond froze into an incredulous stance.

“I have been worried, My King.” She held his gaze.

“Not your King,” Thranduil dismissed again, “and why. Do rumours of my impending demise circulate far and wide?”

“Yes.” Tauriel sighed the unexpected answer. “Dain claims that it's a good time to snatch up some territories off Mirkwood when its King is entirely uninterested in living and the heir to the throne is at an undisclosed location, equally uninterested in the fate of his people. How much of this is true and should I be worried?”

“Tales of weakness is it the midget monkey insinuates!” 

“So it's not true?” The elleth seemed somewhat relieved. 

Thranduil grunted his displeasure, “don't act like I was laid up helplessly, unawares of intrusion.”

“That I am glad to see. Forgive my trespass, it's just that I could not stop thinking about you and how some of what is happening to you is my fault.”

“Oh, so forgiveness is it you're after,” Thranduil spat ill-naturedly.

“No. I merely needed to know and see with my own eyes how you are.”

“You assume too much, Queen of Dwarves.”

“I am merely here as a friend. Could you ever see me as a friend?” Tauriel felt her cheeks flushing at attempting such move. 

“Come,” Thranduil rolled his eyes with a sigh and led her to his bedroom, just a doorway away. Its simplicity surprised Tauriel. There were a lot less ornaments than she'd remembered and more books instead. Thranduil sheeted his sword and placed it by the bed, then sat on the bedcovers, “so you don't trust my word given to you. That I will prevail till your first official visit.”

“That's not the impression I was meaning to give,” Tauriel lowered her gaze, blushing in her embarrassment, finding that Thranduil could still unnerve her. “I would like to know how you are, and if there's anything I could do to help.”

“You and my healers!” Thranduil grumbled, shooting her an annoyed and heated look, “why can't you just leave me alone!”

Driven by curiosity and concern, Tauriel did not cower but ambled closer so she could peek at the vials sitting on the bedside cabinet that decidedly smelt of medicine. More concerningly, now that she was near, she could see that the chamberpot was tainted with something that looked like vomit. “Perhaps because you are gravely ill,” she quipped somewhat miffed that despite his claims, he was not entirely in line with his promises, even though she knew that if he was still ill after several months, it would be out of his hands and could mean nothing good for an elf especially. 

“You come here to question my ability to rule?”

Tauriel almost felt like crying. “I care for you, My King,” she emphasized, “I have to know that you can endure till the next time I can come.”

“Do I seem some sort of baby to you?!? Just leave the way you came.” Thranduil felt secretly touched by the concern. 

“Your attitude gives me hope My Lord and I will abide by your wishes,” Tauriel nodded in the subservient way she used to when she had been serving him and took to retreat as per his orders.

“Tauriel..” She wasn't sure she'd heard him or it were her senses playing tricks on her. In any case, she turned to check and saw him lying back on his bed, hands protectively round his stomach, eyes closed with a timeworn expression. It made her uncomfortable, not being sure if he even intended to be seen like that or did he think she'd already departed, at least till he spoke, “you are an accomplished healer aren't you. You could make yourself useful since you're here anyway.”

“What do you need, My Lord?”

“You see, calling my healers again would ultimately mean more panic around the court. Because no matter how much I order these visits to remain quiet, somebody always gets word of it and then all I have to deal with for weeks is courtiers asking me how I am all day long. You however, are already here and can leave undetected. I trust you know some spells to settle a complaintive belly.”

“Yes, most likely, but for it to be on point, I need to know the symptoms and the ailment. Can you tell me please, what is wrong?”

“What kind of question is that! As if you didn't know. What is wrong is You! You making me hang on is what's wrong. Fea and body wanting different things, that is bound to cause discord.”

“The King Thranduil I know cannot be made to do anything he doesn't want to do. So you have to want to stay to some extent.”

“Tell that to my stomach. Nothing has agreed with it since the battle.”

“Could you keep nothing down? For several months?” Tauriel panicked empathetically. 

“The Eldar my age don't need that much sustenance,” he took pity on her. 

“Sure, if you want to simply exist, nothing more,” the redhead felt personally offended by his attitude. 

“Did I by any chance promise you more than simply exist, to endure?”

“It's true, you haven't,” Tauriel felt tears prickling the sides of her eyes in defeat.

“Galion regularly makes sure I eat something I can stomach,” he took pity on her once more, “like earlier on today. It is most often rewarded with considerable cramping at least, such as now, hence my need for your assistance,” the king explained. “A spell should do, just so I can rest. Come closer and place your hand here,” he indicated the middle of his abdomen. 

“With your permission,” Tauriel was not used to touching him and so advanced cautiously, “can you describe the pain?”

“You mean like a mill stone turning and grinding down inside me with all its weight and pulling me down into a void.”

Tauriel winced in sympathy, “it doesn't sound like it is physical in origin.”

“It still gets more bothersome with influencers of physical origin.” He continued. 

“Thank you for your honestness and your trust in me,” Tauriel got herself together enough to place a gentle palm on his belly. It was weird how different the occurrence felt from when she was touching her wedded king because with Kili she had no constraints while she still felt lowly and subordinate comparing to Thranduil. The thought momentarily obstructed her attention, but then she quickly reminded herself that the other elf was waiting. The elleth took a deep breath so that when she let it out, she could send her curative energies out with it. The spell itself was also merely a vessel, it was her wishing and will to make him feel better that she hoped to have some effect. She would concentrate and not stop till it was so.

“Your touch..your touch is exceptional...” Thranduil mumbled as if half lulled into slumber. “Healers by profession, they don't have the same touch. While they know how to, there's only so much energy they can convey to a single patient, be that their King or not. There's a certain monotony and routineness to their approach that can never have the warmth you emit. The likes of you,” he corrected himself, “elves with the affinity for the healing art who don't overuse it.”

“I wish I could help you more.”

“You did. But maybe that official visit could be arranged sooner shall it not.”

“I will do everything I can to make it so.”

“Till before long then, my little benefactor,” he appeared to let her go. 

“I wish you well, My Lord,” Tauriel sent another wave of her powers through the aether as farewell notwithstanding she had no idea if it would reach him and vowed to think of him often and repeat the wish if it only helped him the smallest of fractions. 

“Tauriel..”

The redhead found herself confused once more while sensing deja vu. “Wait.” The king rose as if refreshed indeed and crossed the distance to his desk where he poured some wax onto a piece of paper and rolled one of his rings into it. “I know I don't have to worry about you being detected on the way out, but I don't want you shot as an intruder at any case. Show this to anyone who may stop you and pretend it's some document from me you need to deliver to your betrothed,” he nodded at her decisively as he handed the object over, this time truly letting her go as he turned away, signalling the end of their meeting.

Tbc


	8. Enclosed and Obstructed

Chapter 8: Enclosed and Obstructed

“Fairly different from the lodgings I remember from the last time I've enjoyed Thranduil's hospitality,” Kili sized up the spacious room the Dwarf King and his Queen was given on arrival. “Kind of makes me wish for the dungeons,” he frowned at the many flowers and branches decorating the room and pushed some petals off the bed, “are we in the forest still or what!”

Tauriel laughed and pushed him back on said bed with her body, leaning over him with a kiss, “still wishing for the dungeons?”

“Perhaps out of nostalgia, it is after all where our love has blossomed into something palpable. But I can be convinced of other pursuits,” he rolled around in the bed, giving her space to settle. 

“Kili, we are here to see Thranduil, not to be racy.”

“Correction. You are here to see Thranduil,” the young King grumbled. “Me, I don't know why I'm here.”

“We said you're here to ask him a dwarven regiment's safe passage across to Moria in the coming year.”

“You and I both know that was only an excuse for you coming here. I could have asked that in a letter. Have you really missed being in the company of your kind that much? Regret coupling up with me?”

“Never!” She joined her hands with his, smiling mischievously. It was a more open and congenial manner she had adopted while living in the midst of dwarves and Men of Laketown, especially after bearing his son Arminas when she learnt that Dwarven children needed more manifestations of physical as well as verbal affection than the Elvish. “I am simply worried about Thranduil. It has been a while since I left.”

Kili grunted, searching her face, “I don't think I will ever understand your devotion to him. But he has saved my life and therefore I will humour you this time.”

“Kili. Are you jealous again?” Tauriel admonished.

“You think about him so much,” he huffed.

“I love you Kili, haven't I proved it enough,” the elleth rolled her eyes. 

“Just as well,” the young King cupped her face, a lot easier to reach when they were both horizontal. “Otherwise I might have to call him out for one of those duels to defend your honour.”

“Don't you dare draw your sword in the presence of the Elvenking!”

“Only if he's giving me reason to.”

“I've seen enough heads fall without a moment's warning in the Throne Hall.”

“What, he'll chop my head off?” Kili challenged. 

“No, of course not, but you should be on your guard. He can be very swift when he wants to be. Or at least I hope so that he still can..” Tauriel seemed worried, “do you mind if I go seek out some old friends?” She sat up. 

“Depends. Would these be male or female friends.”

“Male I'm afraid,” she teased, “most of the military personnel under my captaincy was male after all.” Though she omitted to mention that it wasn't any of them she intended to visit, but a certain personal butler. Tauriel found Galion in the wine cellar where she was intending to wait a bit as he was likely to turn up either for his master's drink or his own, keen on the dark red as he was. 

“Queen Tauriel,” Galion acknowledged her with a polite bow.

“You don't have to do that. I am as I always have been, your friend.”

“Maybe before you've betrayed the King. Manifold I might add.”

“I'm glad he has such a loyal manservant in you, but tell me, how did I betray him manifold? I can count one time, or maybe another if we consider sleeping with the 'enemy', but more then that?”

“You promised him you would come back.”

“And I am back.”

Galion scoffed. “It took you four years! Four years of him sitting in a chair out on his balcony, staring out onto the forest roads! Four years of him anguished, aimless, gloomy, laid low and bilious! Four years of...”

“Surely he was waiting for Legolas to come back, watching the path like that.”

“You're here now,” Galion disregarded the question as he had given too much away already, “are you still planning on making him wait!”

“The hour was late when we arrived, we didn't want to disturb at this time.”

Galion shook his head, “he's waiting up for you Tauriel. Go already!” He pointed upstairs impatiently. 

Tbc


	9. Gridlock With Snow

Chapter 9: Gridlock with Snow

With no servants to be seen, Tauriel knocked on Thranduil's bedroom door politely and somewhat more reservedly than her usual confident Queen's or even guard's manner. She was getting antsy and worried when there was no answer, not for a while and then the door opened just a bit, with Thranduil's unmistakable fine and ringed hand reaching out from behind it and pulling her inside, where she was pushed against the back of the door, effectively closing it. Her surprise and submission in regards to Thranduil made her compliant, but she was rather confused by the unusual treatment. “My King?..Should I not be here?”

“No, you should not be, I was not expecting you,” Thranduil's body pressed against hers, pressing her against the wood behind her, eyes boring into hers, mouths closer than they have ever been. His breathing seemed laboured, but before Tauriel could assess his countenance further, he pushed away and turned from her, “and yes, you should be. It has been longer between your visits than usual.”

“I apologise.” Tauriel reeled from his volatile behaviour, “I was thinking about not making my husband jealous. He had been pretty suspicious of my visits here and with them being clandestine too,” she referred to the few times over the last few years she had repeated her night trips down the shaft to meet and cater to the Elvenking.

“Has he got anything to be green-eyed about?” 

“Of course not, Aran Nin. But he is jealous all the same.”

“How sweet. Hm, I can understand that,” Thranduil grumbled, “I would be the same in his place.”

“How is your health, My Liege?”

Thranduil scoffed like a child, “how thoughtful of you to ask. But if you would have cared, you would have been coming more often. My Lady.” He gave her all courtesy due to be given to a fellow royal nevertheless. 

“We had to stay and assure the People of Dale that we would aid King Bain just the same as we had been aiding King Bard.”

“I've heard of the good Bard's passing.” Thranduil seemed pensive and somewhat absent, but not in the way the redhead expected him to be, which would have been dismissive about the whole issue of a mortal's demise.

“How are you, truly,” Tauriel stepped closer, to what could be considered an intimate distance and complete abandon of formality. If there would have been onlookers, the closeness of their personal relationship would have been clear as opposed to an explanation based on her acquired queenly confidence. 

“What do you think.” The Elvenking sighed incited and made a step too, closing the distance further in a provocative manner. 

“I think you are better with each visit I make,” the redhead countered just as provocatively. “Thus there not being a reason for me to visit too often. Not to mention there not being any obvious correlation between my presence and your state of health.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes, “you can think of none whatsoever?”

“While I may be considered a distinguished healer amongst Durin's Folk, amongst the Eldar I would barely be thought of as mediocre.”

“Hm. You still haven't learnt the proper dwarf way I see.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Boasting and self praise.”

“Are you avoiding an answer to the question I keep repeating?” She ignored the stab at the people she was supposed to rule over. “How are you fairing?”

“You are the healer, you tell me,” he provoked. 

Tauriel sighed frustratedly at the what could only be interpreted as a command, “if that's what you wish. Lie down and I'll perform an examination.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows with a pause, then threw his mantle off with one fluid movement to gracefully settle on the lounge behind him. “Here,” he held out a palm, facet the Eldar used as a reflector of their kind's state of health.

The redhead however was more used to dealing with other species, “not like that. I want to be more thorough.”

“See? That is exactly why it's you I need,” Thranduil teased.

Tauriel's eyes ran across him, assessing the material of his clothing. It was silken and therefore she deemed it possible to feel through them sufficiently enough and wasted no time to place her hand atop his solar plexus, simply noting the nature of his breathing, the plain act that had once caused him pain at the height of his affliction. 

He was relaxed though this time, making curious eye contact, rather than busy with withdrawing to conceal discomfort. She proceeded gently nevertheless with placing the flat of her hand on the abdominal wall and applying steady pressure as she moved her fingers round his belly. It was only through her expertise that she noticed the involuntary tightening of the abdominal musculature above his navel, and it required deep palpation to elicit it. It wasn't a clean bill of health for sure, not by elven standards, but he was in a lot better state than she'd feared so she involuntarily let out a relieved breath. “One might mistake your expression for caring deeply,” Thranduil commented teasingly as a way of trying to hide his body's rousing reaction at her familiar touch. It was the only time he ever got hard, the times she was touching him so intimately. Not that many people would be allowed to touch him in any way of course. 

Something coiled with a surge low in his belly and it had nothing to do with weaknesses. What a natural beauty in front of his eyes. This is what he had missed, what had felt too long not to experience. 

“I am glad you are well,” she admitted. 

“I would be better if you stayed. I have no one, not family.”

“I'm not family.”

“You're the closest there is to it, after making Legolas go.” Thranduil concentrated on the painful thought so that he could keep himself from blushing at the straining bulge in his breeches he covered with his cape instead of reaching out for her that he felt like doing, before his feelings could escalate. When he leaned forward, towards her, it was to further obscure her view of his loins.

“I will accept my responsibility in the occurrence, but he didn't just leave on my account only.”

Thranduil dismissed the conversation topic with a flourish, not denying anything, “I want you to come more often. Not for the sake of my health, simply for the sake of our relationship.”

“What is our relationship, if I may question.”

“This is your home and it will always be your home.” No way would he let her know how much he wanted her so he closed his eyes, feigning tiredness. To see her, have her within reach and not truly have her, that was too much to handle. Tauriel belonged to someone else, and he had to honour that, even if that someone was a dwarf. 

“No, it is not.”

“Why, are you intending to stay in Erebor after your husband's enemies, who cannot wait for his death, take the throne? Face an eternity without a mate?”

“I will do whatever is necessary for my children.”

Thranduil sighed, “so they can abandon you after everything.”

“No news of Legolas?”

The nonanswer was an answer. “I may have come to terms with the fact that he may never reward us with his presence,” Thranduil confided quietly, resignedly after a pause. At this point, he just felt old. 

“So that's what's different, acceptance, that's what made you feel better,” Tauriel drew her conclusions, “still, you're not a hundred percent.”

He peered up at her abruptly, “that is what you need to come to terms with, that I will never be, not under the circumstances.”

“Will you grant Kili's wishes?”

“I care little of his wishes but they've brought you here, haven't they? Of course I will. It might encourage him to come ask me more often.”

“Till our official meeting then, tomorrow,” she drew back, nodding at him. 

Tbc


	10. Shelter of Necessity

Chapter 10: Shelter Of Necessity

Tauriel was only very vaguely aware of someone touching her from behind and did not take interest till the person snaked his arm around her and squeezed her against himself and by then she could not ignore the feel of the delicate silky material of the clothes, the long, ringed fingers, the smell of the forest. She gasped sharply, turning back, though the arms did not let her go. 

“I came to take you home,” Thranduil said softly, his hands running down her arms, “if you'll let me.”

Tauriel's eyes widened in awe, a little bit of happiness sneaking its way into her grief, “you're here,” she stared into his eyes reverently. 

“I'm here,” he repeated, still not letting her go, “I wished to see you. I've heard the dwarves have been particularly troublesome lately.”

“Some of them, but not in the way you'd expect,” Tauriel admitted, “there is a faction that wants my son to ascend to the throne, even though Dain has already been crowned.”

“And the other side is now sworn to stamp out your branch of the family. You are in danger. It is time to come home, Tauriel. Before there are permanent consequences.”

“I have my children to protect.”

“Any of your descendants will always be welcome in Mirkwood.”

“My son would perhaps accept the move, my daughter will not. She has a beloved here.”

“Oh? Move your son then. Nobody would be able to prop him up for the Erebor throne and your daughter would be safe here.”

“It's too soon. Their father only died mere days ago, and I'm supposed to take them out their usual environs?”

“Tauriel, I am sorry for your loss, but isn't their safety more important than clinging to familiarity?”

“I can't,” she shook her head, shoulders hunched by the burden of grief she carried, its trance hijacking the light in her eyes. 

“You have to, and you know that,” he squeezed her hands he never let go of. “You will do the right thing, you always do.”

“I can't,” she repeated, weighed down by the void in her heart, “it's not my decision to make, it's theirs.”

“I will not have you in peril. Let me speak with Celedar.” It was clear he had to school in his words and emotions and contain the tone of his voice. He didn't want to appear authoritative, not with her and not now, but it was hard for him not to, not being used to it. 

Tauriel frowned, deep in thought. “How did they even let you inside the caves of Erebor?”

Thranduil smirked, “they didn't. I used glamour so nobody saw me,” he took in a deep breath and concentrated, his form turning to the most ridiculous image for him Tauriel could think of, that of a tiny hobbit's, namely the adventurous one taking part in the battle. She couldn't help but smile at that, then the image shimmered and Thranduil's form reappeared in its full glory, bar for being a little pale from the effort and some mischief glinting in his eyes. 

“Are you sure you're well enough for this?” Tauriel fretted all of a sudden. While he had been used to keeping up a constant glamour to disguise his injuries caused by dragonfire, that illusion was smaller and one he was well versed at as opposed to the current one that required his constant attention. 

“Let me take care of you for once,” Thranduil suggested darkly, a little miffed by the possibility of not being allowed to, “it's been quite a while. Where can I find Celedar?” 

“You would have to pass through a few corridors,” the widow warned, “are you planning to do that also as Bilbo Baggins?”

“If necessary.” He sounded impatient. 

Again, Tauriel couldn't deny herself a smile. It has been so sweet of Thranduil to try to check up on her instead of running his kingdom in peace, but to do it looking like a hobbit and with possible ill effects to his precarious health, that was not something she had anticipated, nor expected, “have you been well of late?” She reached for his hand, being easier to assess him through physical contact as opposed to simply being in his presence.

Thranduil's hands closed around hers, not letting her have it the other way round, “you can worry about that later if you really want to,” turning, he pulled her benevolently with him, his outward look changing as he opened the door, though in reality his fingers never let go of hers and the intricate grace of his movements remained. She could feel his comforting, strong squeeze all the way down the corridor.

Tbc


	11. Rays of the Rainbow

Chapter 11: Rays Of The Rainbow

While Thranduil had officially met Tauriel and Kili's children prior to their adolescence, he was immediately taken aback by the young hybrid's poise and gracefulness he received his mother with and the warmth conveyed by his taking her hands in his. While Celedar would have been the shortest elf he had ever seen had the boy been one, not much else gave away his true parentage. His hair was long, straight, black and well kept, his eyes decidedly his mother's. Seemingly the hybrid made no attempt to fit in with the dwarves, not with a beard, or loudness or dark clothing and it was this that made Thranduil immediately drop the glamour as soon as they were themselves only in the candlelit, subterranean room. 

Once more, the boy's demeanour revealed nothing of the scandalous ways of the dwarves. He simply scrutinised the apparition calmly, “Hir Vuin Thranduil,” Celedar gave his fluid greeting in Sindarin. “Anann gen ú-gennin. Glass nín gen achened. Havo dad,” he offered him what would normally serve as a table to sit on for his size.

“Your mother taught you the language of the Grey Elves,” Thranduil could not hide his surprise. 

“Yes, my mother taught me many languages,” Celedar dismissed the praise.

“I must admit, I am surprised there is a dwarven faction that supports your crowning at all. You truly possess your mother's beauty and spirit.”

The youth gave him a very elflike, measured smile, “you truly aren't aware that not all dwarves hate the Eldar.”

“Surely mostly all.”

“No. Especially not since my mother's union and support. Not to mention all those who honour the true Durin line, friends and companions of my parents.”

“Like about a dozen individuals I would wager,” Thranduil rolled his eyes, still unconvinced.

“You would be surprised,” Tauriel cut in, “but Celedar would never ascend purely out of greed for power. However, there are other considerations at stake. King Dain is not a celebrated, popular ruler.”

“I wonder why,” the Elvenking quipped. “I wouldn't be surprised if he'd orchestrated an attempt on your life. At both of your lives. I'm astonished you're still allowed in the Royal Chambers for one.”

“Uncle Dain is old,” the youth reasoned. 

“Oh yes, I forget how quickly this people age,” Thranduil indeed looked like the detail had skipped his mind before he nodded his acknowledgement. 

“Popular opinion does not object to Dain's son. Therefore Celedar does not have cause to worry in regards to a possible civil conflict,” Tauriel didn't sound entirely certain, but was certainly hopeful.

“I wish my son took matters of the Court with similar seriousity,” the Elvenking disclosed morosely, his lips closing into a thin line in his dissatisfaction.

Tauriel felt like reaching out, touching him, giving him the bodily comfort she got so used to from Kili. There was still no news of Legolas bar for a few sightings up North in the Icebay and the Far Downs, but she did not want to show such display of emotion towards the elf in front of her son. Not yet anyway, not when all she wished for right now was for the two males in her life she cared most about to fraternise. 

“Can't Dain's son ascend to the throne now and settle the matter once and for all,” Thranduil grumbled further. 

“Or not, since it's Dain we are talking about,” Tauriel reminded her, “he has waited long enough for the throne without causing too much trouble for Kili and now he wants to harvest every little drop of it.”

Thranduil sighed, “I've temporarily let you go, Tauriel. But you are still my subject and I feel personally responsible for your welfare. Your mother needs to come home to heal, I know it,” he turned towards the young hybrid. 

“I concur,” Celedar surprised both of them by agreeing. “I am not blind, amad*,” warmth sparkled in his eyes as he angled himself in his mother's direction, “you're missing Mirkwood and every corner here reminds you of father. You should go with your mellon. Isn't that why you really came?” He confronted the tall visitor.

Thranduil quirked a curious eyebrow, surprised to be called Tauriel's friend above all other adresses. Celedar was clearly wiser than he'd thought possible and thus was encouraged to hope that his words would be taken seriously. “If you trust Dain's future successor and want to avoid polarization, then the logical alternative is removing yourself out of the equation. My invitation extends to you also. Consider Mirkwood your second home.”

“Thank you, My Lord. Since my mother is not likely to take leave on her own, I must temporarily accept your invitation.”

“Very well, young Ernil. How quick can you gather everything together you need?” Thranduil came to appreciate the prince more and more with every word that left his lips.

tbc

Glossary:

I haven't seen you for a long time ~ Anann gen ú-gennin  
It is my joy to see you again ~ Glass nín gen achened  
Sit down ~ Havo dad  
amad – mother (Khuzdul/dwarvish)


	12. Cloudy with a Chance of Showers

Chapter 12: Cloudy with a Chance of Showers

“I thought I would find you here.”

Thranduil's voice startled a transfixed Tauriel and she turned rather abruptly, which in turn prompted Thranduil to reach a hand out and steady her, make sure she wouldn't tumble down the stone steps around the dungeons. “I haven't forgotten where to step,” Tauriel objected, even though his touch has grounded her, emotionally rather than anything else. 

“You might have forgotten that I am here to help,” Thranduil's deep blue eyes took on a tinge of green in the shadowy light of the hollow.

“It's not that I don't appreciate what you've done for us but...”

“You need time.” It came out rather flatly, but his intent was there. 

“I'm glad you understand. You are very kind.”

“So you would like me to go, not to approach you till you do so yourself?”

Tauriel took a shuddering breath, the loneliness of the cave feeling like pressure seeping the life out of her. “I don't want you to go. Could you just hold me?” She looked around, checking whether there were any guards around. The prisoners neither of them cared about. 

Thranduil didn't answer but crushed her against him, with a little more enthusiasm that the elleth would have preferred, but her antagonism against the move lasted mere moments till her instincts told her to surrender. His skin wasn't particularly warm, yet he encircled her with a warmth conveying all his good will, his muscled arms as if belonging to her and the comfort of them made her tilt her head back and rest it against his shoulder.

“You're all I have,” Thranduil whispered lovingly into her ear and all of a sudden the embrace became about comforting both of them rather than just her. It was knowing that, that made her feel hope in her own future happiness, a promise that she would be able to connect with another being in life after Kili. It strengthened her inside, it built her up. 

“I know what to do to bring you back to life,” the Elvenking murmured, an ear twitching in excitation, “when was the last time you've slain some bats and orcs?”

“Orcs? Where?”

“North. So far we haven't figured what their mission is so far into the forest.”

“There are none captured?” Tauriel has seen all the cells and their occupants in the dungeons after all.

“I have a quick temper,” he excused himself in regards to the treatment of the prisoners. “Are you open for an invitation to a quick patrol to the borders?” Thranduil could swear her eyes sparkled in interest. It was exactly what he was intending to provoke. 

“I thought you'd never ask,” Tauriel breathed in the intoxicating possibility of taking up her old life she had missed terribly despite everything. “When would you like me to go out?”

“As soon as you can get debriefed and fitted with a new quiver and comfortable riding gear. If you're not too tired?” His clear blue eyes showed anticipation.

“What I'm tired of is being useless.”

“Is that so. In that case, report to me as soon as you're ready.” Thranduil commanded, barely able to suppress an open show of joy at her decision. 

tbc


	13. Bright and Unclouded

Chapter 13: Bright and Unclouded

Tauriel was a little bit surprised to find Thranduil waiting for her without a crown or even his ringlet and in simple garments that she could have sworn he had borrowed from Legolas' wardrobe if not for the fact the two weren't of the same size. Still, the brownish cape she definitely recognised by the pattern on its back. Furthermore, Thranduil sat on a similarly coloured, pretty ordinary horse that while spry looking, did have nothing in common with the proudful royal menagerie, nor the lordly way he held his toned body, something that was harder to shed. “I shall lead the expedition,” he announced, “there are a few changes you should become accustomed with before you take lead again,” Thranduil advised. 

“You do this often?” Tauriel mounted the horse offered to her by the stablehand to join the king. 

“I'm afraid so. It takes my mind off other things for a few days at least,” Thranduil explained. 

“I thought that the weight of the crown doesn't allow for such ordinary matters,” the elleth fed his own words back to him she had often heard when Thranduil tried to instruct his son, hopelessly as it were. What's more, she experienced the problem first hand when the adventurous Kili himself got confined to his Halls by regnant matters that frequently required his council and judgement.

“Didn't you advise for fresh air in your capacity as healer?”

Tauriel found herself smiling briefly at his banter and closed up for a more confidential topic, “I apologise for pushing the matter of your health aside of late.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. Your needs were more pressing at this time.”

“Still Thranduil, will you tell me how you've been.”

The sapphire blue eyes gave her a sharp look, but when he turned back to guide his horse towards the appropriate path they were meant to take, Tauriel knew from his unpretentious expression that the answer was going to be genuine. “My subconscious is aware of the pain, but I'm so used to it I don't even notice it anymore.”

It wasn't the answer Tauriel had been hoping for and it unsettled her, “you should have said earlier, before we left,” she panicked, “are you even fit for this endeavour?”

Thranduil rolled his eyes, “I have managed without you a few lifetimes you know.”

“Could you perhaps indulge me then and let me care for you with the occasion of our first stopover?”

“In front of my men?” Thranduil gave his answer, his eyes widening momentarily in disapproval.

Tauriel sighed, “perhaps there will be a chance to run off with some excuse for a moment or two.” 

His voice softened immediately. He always regretted it after he was being harsh with her. “My soldiers take their duty to guard me very seriously you know that very well and I expect nothing less. You did too once, you remember?” The memory made the ghost of a smile pass his face.

While the depth in his eyes startled her, she would remain argumentative, “I also remember your foibles. You are the King after all, don't you do what you please?”

“Would I be allowed to kiss you?”

Even though his deep tone was kept intentionally playful, Tauriel's head snapped up in scandal, “I loved Kili. I still do.”

“You and I both know that bonding with a mortal cannot last forever.”

“You shouldn't kiss me,” Tauriel reinforced the ground rules. 

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

“I am not a Queen anymore,” she stated.

“But you're not exactly my subordinate either, are you?” 

“I easily could be again. Isn't that what this expedition is truly about?”

“I cherish you more than that, Tauriel, don't you know that I mean that in earnest,” Thranduil's quick return sounded as miffed as it was stern and then he urged his horse on to hasten up and leave the elleth a bit behind so he could conceal his disappointment and sadness over her still way too negative view of him. 

tbc


	14. Choppy and Unsafe

Chapter 14: Choppy and Unsafe

Stating that the scouting trip wasn't going to plan was an understatement. Because all they've expected from the orcs was a few Snuffler pathfinders probing elven defensive forces for a weakness and maybe some random bats who had the audacity to start building a colony at the wrong side of the border. It would have served as a great warming up exercise for the returning elleth, the bats however were not appearing randomly at all. It had to have been a new trick of Sauron's, utilizing the vampire bats' natural thirst to serve as an adhesive to the Dark so they can thus harness Thuringwethil's powers in turn to coordinate a deliberate and focussed attack. By the time the little group of elves led by Thranduil reached the border, they found all of their stationed sentinels drained dry of blood, with merely a couple having any chance of survival if a shred of life force could be administered quick enough. Cut off from the rest of their squadron by another bat attack, both worried royals knelt by a survivor each and started channelling the effect of a healing spell without any prior ado. 

“Leave both of them to me,” Tauriel panted her plea, a little out of breath after the intense melee with the vampire bats, “you are not in any condition to heal others.”

“I will let you know that I have done so in your absence for our people without your explicit approval,” Thranduil quipped, instinctively straightening a little for a commanding effect. 

“We cannot put ourselves in a situation where both of us are depleted, in case of an orc attack,” she reasoned, unflinching and completely used to arguing with stubborn kings practically all her life. 

“In case of an attack, we should both stay on form. This little exercise will not deplete me,” he squared his shoulders and gave her no more consideration as he went on with his plan. Reserving the majority of his honed in sixth sense to the forest beyond where the eye could see, he took a moment to muse over the fact that despite the differences between the natural inclinations of neri and nissi, they both independently decided to use the same chant, then gave his remaining attention to his sentinel, mentally poking at the embers of the fire of life that still sparkled in the soldier. Tauriel was of course right. It wasn't particularly advisable for those not hale in body and spirit to attempt to bestow their inner energy on others for it was a taxing experience. Thranduil already knew that his nausea would build, but was confident enough that he could endure. After all, he was used to great physical pain as well, for long periods of time and more of his people he could not afford to lose. His desire to heal was deeper than his general state of despair and his unrelenting touch was enough to evoke the same in the sentinel's spirit and thus he kick-started his subject's self-healing abilities. Swallowing down the nausea, he brought himself back to take a new stock of his surroundings, but found that his vision swam and his stomach smarted, enough to make him double over.

“Thranduil, this is madness, lie down a little,” he let himself being guided down onto the ground by Tauriel's hand under the side of his neck, her other hand soothing his back with gentle rubs. “Don't you dare attempt to take some of my pain away,” he grumbled, “we can't both be vulnerable in the current situation.”

“I find it hard, watching you suffer, especially for so long,” Tauriel frowned, but drew her fingers back, knowing he was right. 

“The sentinel?” Thranduil looked to the side for a glance.

“He'll live,” the redhead gave her assessment, “I can see his colour returning. You did well, though I am not entirely sure how.”

“Thank you for voicing your concern but I need not remind you that I am Sindar and of royal blood, and deal death less often than you would think so my power of healing is not too diminished. What are you doing!” He tried to pull away from her arms scandalised when he placed her hand on his belly, “I know you don't take orders, but can't you see sense!”

“Relax, I'm not going to employ magic nor art, I promise. All I'm going to do is what mortals sometimes do, giving it a little comfort by rubbing.”

“Hm,” Thranduil mused, “I've always wondered what such an action could do in itself.”

“More than you realise,” the younger elf assured, sneaking her hand boldly in between the clasps of his robe. It was a gentle push and pull and yet Thranduil had to admit shortly that simply the sensation of having her hand there was a comfort to him and he twisted to lean harder against it on instinct. “Are you sure you're not using any healing arts?” The King was surprised by the effect. 

“I'm sensible enough,” the redhead avowed, “though it is hard not to. I have to keep my emotions in check so they don't kickstart the process of chasing away darkness. It remains yours to deal with for the moment,” she sounded regretful.

“Darkness,” he mused, “there's no real darkness when you're around, Tauriel,” he shifted to look into her bright, affectional eyes, “you are love and strength itself,” he took in the wonder that was her appearance, feeling drawn to it. It was undeniable that there was something between them, a natural sense of intimacy that forged them into one. No more thoughts crossed his mind when he instinctively pulled closer, eyes wide in want to kiss her delicately on the lips almost as if in suspended animation. Forcing control on himself, he pulled back just as unexpectedly even for himself, but he raised a hand to embrace her by the shoulders, not really ready to let go.

Tauriel shook her head as if wanting to shake off the experience, twisting out his grasp, “we should look for the others.”

tbc


	15. The Comfort of Air Conditioning

Chapter 15: The Comfort of Air Conditioning

Thranduil rarely slept well, though he spent an unusually great deal of time in bed, either not feeling like joining in with the world, or absentmindedly rubbing his own belly for comfort. It was with the rare occasion of being half asleep, definitely disconnected with the world that he sensed someone moving beside him, “I don't need the pillows refreshed or any medicine,” he complained about the interference, expecting Galion to retreat back at his gruff voice.

Instead, the bed dipped beside him, and not even as little as it would have if someone had simply sat on it. He was quick in turning and retrieving the small dagger from under the mattress, but his visitor was expecting it too, stopping the blade with hers. With only one candle lit in the other side of the room, Thranduil had to do a double take to check that indeed it was Tauriel who had slipped into his bed in nothing but a summer time nightgown. The blade tumbled onto the floor from his hand and after a brief questioning look, he crushed his lips against hers, not caring about the reason behind the change of heart for the moment, pressing against her with so much need and entrancement that were they mortal, it would have bruised. He did not bother with gentle or gradual, he kissed intensely, lewdly, impulsively, making her entire body resonate with the effects of a sensual shiver that engulfed her in response to his exuberance.

Despite the relative darkness, his eyes sparkled with passion, utterly pronounced in the aflutter craze he touched her with. Her hips moved towards him on their own, giving him wordless permission to go on, fasten even. She moaned, gathering as much of his muscular back as she could in her arms as his tongue tested the inside of her mouth with the hunger he'd been feeling all this time instead of for food. Her fingers habitually found their way to his belly, but before long they went lower where they mischievously tested his rod. 

Nobody has touched him there, not in centuries. He shivered with the groan that made his lips tremble and pushed both their nightgowns up, not concerned about how they got entangled in his fingers or that some of the material ripped. He didn't even know who's clothes he had ruined. His first thrust into her was precise and heavenly, she felt every millimetre of his presently engorging cock slide past her wet opening slowly. He paused, giving both of them time to take in the overwhelming sensations, then without any middle ground again, he started thrusting rapidly, making her gasp, overpowering sensations exploding in her brain. Her legs reached higher, wanting him even more inside her till she wrapped them around his hips and could facilitate the penetration no more. It distracted him for a moment, enough to change his rhythm when he discovered that a more grinding motion in this position gave both of them more breathless enrapture, almost too much to bear. He needed her even more now, with the pleasure so intense it hurt and he raised his head to look into her deep eyes, uniting their breaths and souls as much as their bodies were. 

Their movements slowed at that, but remained no less intense in feeling. It was clear that no matter how long he's been avoiding these kinds of activities, he was skilled and knowledgeable when it came to bringing an elleth's body to life, now giving its due to every part of her upper body, gently playing with the breasts and teasing the nipples to the point of her desperate moans. She had to chastise herself mentally, no comparisons with a dwarf but the thought had already crossed her mind, that she had never experienced such skill in bed. Tauriel bit her bottom lip, drawing blood, she couldn't take the intense sensations anymore, and at the same time, she knew that it was something she'd want more of, a lot more. She was no longer in control, her body responded to his mastery as if it would have been magic. The redhead could barely manage to form audible words, “please..” It left her mouth raggedly and tortured while her arms pulled him down, down more, begging for release. 

“Please what?” He was not thwarted from teasing her further, dominant and devilish, his tongue giving her bottom lip a little lick. Who knew Thranduil could be so playful.

Her response was a fist tangling into his long blond hair tumbling over them like a tent, but she reigned herself in to surprise him with the answer, “I love you so much, I love you too much Thranduil, I want you and I want to be yours, fully and now,” she whispered fervently, voice trembling with need.

Thranduil paused and swallowed, then lifted up his head to find her eyes again. Speechless, he scrutinised her. It was too good to be true, but her blissful smile told him it was real. Tears pricking his eyes, he kissed her gently this time and laughed, something nor Tauriel or any other elf has heard in Eru knows how long. They melted against each other and just like that, he cummed inside her, peace and warmth engulfing them with it. 

“Unbelievable,” he grinned, rolling his eyes playfully, breaths heavy. 

“What?” The red-haired elleth could hardly speak still, overpowered by the experience and the feel of his broad and strong chest against her.

“You.” He whispered, looking at her reverently with a soft smile like she was a goddess, fascinated.

She bit her lips a little shyly, not because of his words, but because she was embarrassed in front of herself by how much she enjoyed his praise, his touch, his commandeering voice, the heat of the moment. It made her giggle like a human maiden and that in turn, embarrassed her further, but Thranduil just stroked her cheek, not caring about the childish manifestation. 

The king pursed his lips and pulled back a little with a sigh, not really wanting to receive an unfavourable answer, but knew he had to find out nonetheless, “I know you want me, but can I believe that you are mine, that this wasn't just for fun, or because of missing the feel of flesh?” He asked bluntly, lips remaining slightly parted at the end in his anxious, but determined query he would have wanted to hear a positive answer to with all his heart.

His insecurity was adorable as it was only her he showed that side of him to. She almost laughed at the absurdity of the expression on his features, but thought better of it and decided to reward him for his unyielding devotion instead. The feisty redhead reached up to pull him down so she could crush her lips against his, down his jawline and the underside where she almost reached his ears, her warm breath making him tingle with impatience. He pulled away again, “that's not an answer.”

Tauriel noted some shakiness in the words. She would not want to torture him any further, “I'm sorry, I got carried away and I thought it was evident. Yes, I am yours.”

His eyes grew in excitement immediately. The way his breath stopped it seemed like it was almost like a shock to him to finally have her. He shifted so he could take her hands in his. She gripped them everso tightly. Kili, he was something she had to let go of if she wanted to survive.

The End.


End file.
